Innocence lost, and Innocent found
by Delta VT
Summary: AU. Jounouchi is the new kid in school and he had some problems to work out. Can our little Yugi help him when no one else can? Read and find out!


Innocence lost, and Innocent found  
  
Author: Kerri (Varie Chimera) the 'Kawaii Sadist'  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Aren't you all thankful for that little bit of knowledge? xD  
  
Warnings: Violence, language, random out-of-character-ness, more violence, suicide attempts (or at least mentions of them), friskiness, yaoi, pointy objects, a lighter, supernatural moments, even more violence, gangs, drug use, self-mutilation, self-hatred, some blood, and furry little animals!  
  
Note: This is my first actual chapter fic and I plan to delve into the deepest depths of my deranged mind so expect much angst, and plenty of Jounouchi torture. Just so you know Jounouchi is my favorite character from Yu-Gi-Oh, and I am a sadist... hence the plot of this story ^_^. Anyway, on with the show!  
  
Prologue  
  
"It's cold.. " He mumbled. ".. and dark."  
  
Such is my life.  
  
I am Jounouchi Katsuya, the dog, the mutt, the bastard child of a drunkard father, a mother who has shunned me, and a sister I do not deserve. I have no friends. No comfort. Nothing. I guess you could say it's my fault, yes all mine. I distance myself, silent, pent up. I refuse to let people close to me.  
  
Foolish you say?  
  
Ha! You're the fool my friend.  
  
Would you like to know why? Very well then. Every experience has taught me that anyone and everyone who becomes close, saying they 'love' you and all that bull, will only cause pain. They leave, all of them, always... and those who do stay only make it worse.  
  
Such is my father.  
  
My once proud father... reduced to a lowly drunkard. More pitiful than the bastard mutt he claims me to be, and that I know I am. He cares for me not, I am a source of entertainment for him. That and income. I work, he drinks. He'd beat me till I bled, then beat me for bleeding all because dinner was not on the table when he got home from the bar. You see, I had been late from work. Worked overtime, seeing as we needed the money. Father's drinking had sucked the account, little as it was, dry.  
  
Ooh boy was he angry, reminded me of this chained up rottie named Haze the Talon's keep as a 'pet'. Who are the Talon's you ask? Well that's a story for another time. Anyway, with him as mad as he was, the only result is the same as introducing a bucking bronco into a china shop... or even Haze. It wasn't pretty to say the least.. unless you like the shattered remains of glass scattered on the floor which I, ironically, happen to like. Reminds me of my life. Broken into a thousand pieces reflecting distorted images back at me, mockingly... you know, those pieces are rather sharp...  
  
I digress, lets continue, shall we?  
  
Where was I? Oh, right... I walked through that dreaded door, which happens to be falling off it's hinges. One step into the disaster I call 'home' I was greeted by, none other, than a slurred curse and a half empty bottle of vodka. The glass shattered against my skull, spilling the vile smelling substance all over me, burning my eyes. All the while, shards of the bottle made themselves at home burrowed deep into my skin.  
  
I still bear the scars.  
  
I didn't see my father approach... you wouldn't either if you're eyes were burning. He had picked up what remained of the bottle, just the neck and a few jagged ends running down. By the time I figured out what he had in his hand and what he planned to do with it, it was to late.  
  
He swung.  
  
My head jerked to the side, rivulets of blood cascading down my cheek and to the floor. I landed with a hard thump, the hand that reached up to inspect the wound was stomped down on by my father's own foot. "Worthless dog!" He barked.  
  
Yeah yeah.. I've heard this all before.  
  
"You're the reason she left!"  
  
The heel of his boot crushed my wrist into the floor. I bit back a scream, grinding my teeth. I would not give him the satisfaction. Never. I heard a clatter. He must had gotten rid of the bottle. Good... because I didn't feel like being hit with that again. You know... I can't see very well out of my left eye. It's all hazy and red... damn it hurts. I can't even blink it properly. I grunt as he kicked me in the chest. He just loves to kick a dog when he's down-- no pun intended. But really, what kind of man beats up his own child? And what kind of man continues the beating when the victim is obviously in need of a doctor?  
  
"It's all because of you! You scared her away from me!"  
  
Enough you old fool.  
  
"You're a freak! That's why she left!"  
  
Shut up!  
  
"That's why you have no friends!"  
  
I KNOW!  
  
"You're mother left and I was forced to keep you!" I was picked up roughly by the roots of my hair. "And this is the thanks I get huh?!" The beast roared. "I let you live in this house, and you don't even have the decency to have dinner on the table when I come home!"  
  
LET me live in this house? Idiot, if it weren't for me we would be living on the streets!  
  
Apparently I had let that comment slip out. My head was swimming, I couldn't even think strait, let alone keep my mouth shut. "WHAT?!" He boomed, and threw me across the room. I landed on the table breaking it on impact. "Stupid, worthless, piece of sh!t." The beast, also known as my father, grumbled, hovering over me. "I want this place cleaned up. Get my dinner ready, and you go to your room without any." The bastard snapped, walking off but not without a second bottle of that putrid drink from the fridge.  
  
I lay there for a while. Good thing my /father/ passed out on the couch or I'd be worst off than I already am. My chest shuddered. A sob? No I wasn't crying. Heck, I've forgotten how to do that properly... finally something murmured from my lips.  
  
The suspense is killing you isn't it? I won't keep you any longer.  
  
A laugh. Yes, I was laughing. It was bitter, hollow. Just bubbling in my throat at first.. in a matter of seconds it erupted into a fit of hysterics. It took several moments for me to regain composure. I can't loose it now... no, not here. Slowly I stood, the sting from my fathers beating kicking in-- I say again, no pun intended. I hissed while slowly making it to the bathroom. Stumbling I finally manage to find the cracked toilet seat and sit down. Reaching up, I brush my hand lightly over the left side of my face. I immediately wish I hadn't.  
  
"Damn.."  
  
A laugh.  
  
"He fucked me up bad, this time."  
  
Gingerly, I pluck the glass from my hand. Why was there glass in my hand you ask? Oh did I forget to mention when my father stomped on my hand that there was glass littering the floor? Well, now you know. As I was saying, I rid my hand of the glass, wrapping it in thin gauze I kept hidden behind a few broken tiles beside the toilet. Father thinks a /man/ doesn't need such things, that they should just 'suck it up' and move on...  
  
... but he's an ass, and you already figured that out didn't you? Good.  
  
Well, next came my face... I haven't even looked in the mirror yet, I'm almost afraid to. I can't even see out of my left eye now and I know it's open because... I can't close it for some reason. It only seems to cause more pain. And so I stand before the murky glass, to see my face.  
  
God... he really did a number on me. I never thought he would go this far.  
  
A deep gash ran across my temple, and it was still bleeding moderately. Already, I had gotten a good deal of it on myself, mostly mopped up by haphazard golden lochs. Unlike my hand, there weren't many shards I needed to pluck from my brow. Bunching up a wad of toilet paper I manage to grab the bottle of alcohol from my stash of medical supplies at the same time. Twisting the cap I tilt the bottle over enough to soak the wad of two-ply in my hand, and with one moment of hesitation I press the wad to my temple hissing at the sting. Despite the seriousness of the wound, and it's location... that wasn't what worried me.  
  
Oh no it wasn't. Defiantly not.  
  
My left eye was... bleeding. It looked as if I was crying bloody tears, like in one those horror movies or something. The blood defiantly wasn't coming from the wound on my temple. It was easy to tell, because the wound was to far on the side to have bled like this. After applying a plaster to the cleansed gash across my forehead I turned on the tap, waiting for the water to warm.  
  
Once it was warm enough I ran my right hand under the flow, catching water in my cupped palm and splashing it into my face, mostly concentrating on that one eye. Blood tainted the clear liquid as it circled the drain. I did that until the water was almost clear and looked up to the mirror to inspect the damage. The glass had cut through my eye, that warm chocolate orb. A deep sliver ran through the iris deepening into the pupil and with a mirror incision on the opposite side of the small black dot. Blood stained the chocolate pool, transforming a once warm shade of chocolate into a lifeless clay mud.  
  
In one blink the sliver oozed a thin line of blood, reminded me of the F I had scrawled across my last school paper in thin red ink. There wasn't much after that, it was clotting, and that was good. The bad part was I couldn't see much. Just a haze of maroon and with every passing moment I could swear it got worse. I didn't need any time to think it over. I was going blind, or at least in my left eye I was. There was nothing I could do, the damage was dealt, and there was no way I was getting to a doctor even if there was a remote chance of saving my vision.  
  
I couldn't help what came next. Rage welled up inside me. I've felt this before, it was triggered by the smell, taste, even the color of blood. The feeling is provoked with pain and anger coupled with that coppery substance. It became a drug to me. Before I could stop myself a growl rumbled in my throat. I forced myself to calm down. This is what my father mentioned before... I truly am a freak. I'm a monster. I scared my mother away and for good reason.  
  
Shaking my head violently as I tried to quell this feeling, the sudden movement caused pain to ring out through my skull and my stomach to knot. Falling to my knees, and my throat defying gravity I soon found myself bowing to the porcelain God. If you're confused I'll explain. I was puking my guts out. Even after my stomach was empty I continued with dry heaves. Finally I collapsed against the wall, throat soar, and a horrible taste in my mouth.  
  
Well, at least I can control myself... for now.  
  
I don't remember what happened after that, since I had kinda blacked out. That wasn't the worst he's been, believe me. Shortly after, he had attempted an act far worse. I'm sure you all know what 'rape' means, right? Good, such a good reader. Before you start getting all hysterical on me, remember I DID say he had 'attempted' an act far worse, he did NOT rape me. Though there are other things I wish he didn't do... and that I'd rather not mention in full detail. Basically, he took advantage of my frail body, I was 14 at the time and a skinny little nothing who hardly ate. He went about putting his hands in /naughty/ areas, if you catch my drift. The sick bastard almost got away with this sinful act if the tables had not turned. You know how I said I could control myself? Well, there are occasions where I experience a momentary lapse of sanity, and this just happened to be one of those times.  
  
I snapped.  
  
Lashing out and growling like some feral beast backed into a corner. The whole ordeal was just a red haze to me, when it was all over my father suffered three broken ribs and a concussion. Me, on the other hand, had suffered severe neurological damage. Didn't think I knew that word, did ya? News flash kiddies! I ain't as stupid as I let on. I'm just you're classic example of the phrase 'never judge a book by its cover'.  
  
Ok enough of my rambling, lets get on with it.  
  
This was the point in my life where I 'closed the doors' if you will. Kept everyone at a distance from myself, for fear I would lose it again. After that the abuse dwindled. All my father would do was insult me from afar, and in the state of mind I was in, the verbal abuse was just as bad as the physical abuse. Possibly even worse, and so much more permanent.  
  
The days just drew on, and I never said a word. The only living thing I showed any emotion toward was Haze. That once snarling, abused, and chained up Rottweiler became a puppy in my presents (A/N: Rotties have a bad rep! Their great dogs! .. big, but great... I should know, I work with 'um ^_^. Chihuahuas, now those things are EVIL!) and this was something the Talons found useful. None could get near the dog except me, and I was more or less a mute. Meaning I wouldn't spill any 'gang secrets' even if caught by their rival gang, the Fangs. (A/N: Like my gang names? xD)  
  
Before I knew I was in the Talons. Was given an initiation and tattoo without one word in refusal. I think they liked that, figured they could manipulate me any way they wanted, and if they could manipulate me, they could manipulate Haze. For a while that's how it was. I quit my job and lived with Vince, one of the younger Talon members. He was wise and smart with short chestnut hair and the most interesting blue eyes I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of people. In my mime state I observe a lot of things, especially facial features. You can always tell what someone will do by how their expression changes, well everyone except Vince. His eyes are like ice, cold and emotionless.  
  
A month, a few gang fights, and two knife wounds later my father had finally tracked me down. He found out what I had gotten into and how much I'd changed. My clothes went from simple jeans and a T-shirt to complete rebel. They were given to me by other gang members, black torn shirts, ratty jeans, chains, spikes, the works. I even acquired several piercings and one popping from my eyebrow. My hair was cut somewhat shorter than the usual shaggy mess I had and dyed black, Vince said it gave me a look that said 'fuck off and die'.  
  
Well, anyway, my /father/ dragged me back home after that. I had given Vince a look of farewell, a look that showed I probably would never come back. Haze was totally broken up about it, good thing she warmed up to Vince before I was taken away.  
  
"Look at you!"  
  
He barked at me as I idly gazed out the car window. The car jerked to a stop outside out apartment building and I hardly noticed. He grabbed me by the shirt and forced me to face him.  
  
"You pay attention when I'm talking to you!"  
  
My dull brown eyes gazed lazily at his own fierce ones, burning with anger. Funny how he was still angry with me and I smelt no alcohol.. and since when did he get a drivers license?  
  
"Katsuya..."  
  
I blinked, my head turning up as he used my first name. Surprised that he wasn't yelling at me.  
  
"I'm sorry..."  
  
He whispered, barely audible and I blinked again.  
  
"I-I have a problem and I'm going to take care of it, and you. But this.. this..."  
  
He motioned toward the chain hanging from my hip.  
  
"This isn't you. This isn't what you're capable of. This isn't where we belong."  
  
He let me go and stepped out of the car, waiting for me to follow, and I did. Not knowing the next 10 words he was going to say would change my life.  
  
"Come on, get your things. We're going back to Japan."  
  
That's when it all started.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
EO: Well... that's that! Er.. umm.. what do you all think of Jounouchi's father? I'm not really into writing his relationship with beatings and raping. Which is actually how this story started, until I went back and redid the whole thing. I'm hoping the transition isn't to fast... BAH!  
  
-Grumble.- Stupid perfectionist ways....  
  
*AHEM* Leave a review on you way out! The more I get the sooner I'll get my ass to typing up the next chapter, ja! 


End file.
